


Green: The Color of Renewal

by HatterLifeStyle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HatterLifeStyle/pseuds/HatterLifeStyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a new world, talking with new friends, one Damara Megido decides it's time to renew an item in her wardrobe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Olive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cynicallyunorthodox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicallyunorthodox/gifts).



> I'm not entirely sure if this is even remotely similar to what you were expecting when you wrote the prompt, but it was fun trying to write Damara in a way that has some middle ground between the Damara we see in the comic and the Damara that Aranea describes in her exposition. I hope you enjoy reading it.

It had been Meulin's idea.

You'd gone to see her and brought some of your best catnip with you, the door to the hive she shared with her matesprit had been flung open at that and her arms had wrapped around you in greeting and for a brief moment you'd wondered whether you'd escape that dead man's grip with your life. As was always the case, you survived and were quickly ushered inside.

There was something about Meulin's hive that appealed to you greatly. You've never quite been able to put your finger on it, but if you had to try and guess, you'd say that it has something to do with the satisfying duality displayed in it. Something about the way the Mage of Heart's personality always shared space with the Prince of Rage's meant that one simple side table might have a pretty cat-themed decoration on one end, and a dark, skeletal decoration whose intended use you could never quite decipher on the other. It really did afford some peace of mind. Perhaps due to your own duality, the bubbly personality you had displayed before Rufioh's betrayal and the grim, twisted rage that had come after you'd snapped. This new middle ground you'd found all these eternities later was your favorite though, but that didn't mean that both extremes didn't show themselves occasionally; perhaps unbidden, but still a part of you.

Greetings aside and catnip joints rolled you'd both sprawled out on the couch and just let your minds wander.

With the reset world created by the humans and some of your team's dancestors, healing had come in time for you all; your own wounded pride and hurt feelings among them, although Kurloz's lips and Meulin's ears had been other happy discoveries. You would never have thought that Meulin Leijon would ever figure among your best friends, by the time the game had been under way and you'd had any chance to pay attention to her, you were no longer in the mood to tolerate someone you had been under the firm impression was an overly-cheerful idiot and the fact that she was Horus's moirail hadn't sat too well with you either. And yet, it was rare for a week to pass now without one of you visiting the other at least once, and although most of the time you spent together was under that foggy haze that you'd only ever known through catnip, you found that you did your best thinking when in her jovial presence.

Today's preferred topic is apparently cosplay, on account of you being an incorrigible weeaboo. That's cool, it's a topic you know and love.

You tell Meulin all about the cosplays you'd seen in your time among the Lost Weeaboos; fantastic feats of costume manufacture such as you'd never laid eyes on again since leaving the guild. The costumes that were often used as a means of peacocking in order to find a quadrantmate and the sets that were made for quadranted pairs. You take care not to mention your own cosplay, one half of a whole that can only be completed with Rufioh's. She listens with rapt attention and you can already feels her mind working in mysterious ways that will forever be unknown to you, although if you had to guess you'd be willing to bet that Kurloz was going to rue the day you ever talked about cosplay with Meulin Leijon.

As if sensing his matesprit's growing enthusiasm, Kurloz's head pokes in through the doorway. His brow furrows, obviously none too pleased that there was some choice catnip being smoked and that no one had bothered to share, but you just smirk and give him a little wave and a few lewd comments. He bares his teeth and flips you off, but you catch a tiny smile on his face as he leaves the room once more.

With the ridiculous mime no longer serving as a distraction, you turn your attention (or as much of it as you can muster with your head so pleasantly filled with the intoxicating smoke from the catnip) towards Meulin once more. She's eyeing you seriously, head tilted to the side and large, cat-like eyes fixed on you as she seems to give some secret matter serious thought.

"Did you ever cosplay with Rufioh?" Rrrrrufioh. That's how your ex-matesprit's name leaves Meulin's mouth, the r rolled in a way that would have resembled a purr if it weren't for the steely edge to her voice. You should have known that a Mage of Heart wouldn't be fooled by your careful omission. A small part of you wonders if listening to that name from her an eternity ago, back when you were still dead, or maybe when you were still playing the game even, would have made you want her dead... In any case it doesn't now.

"Yes." Your answer is short and leaves little room for continuing a conversation. You know she'll forgive you this bluntness though. She knows that it's still not an entirely pleasant topic to discuss.

"Hmph." She's sprawled out on the love seat opposite the couch you've claimed for yourself, a deep frown on her face. She looks almost angry and in your drug-hazed state it takes you a moment to decipher what could get the cheery troll to make an expression like that.

Of course, once you try to actively come up with an explanation, it's relatively obvious. Meulin, blessed little heart player that she is, probably finds it hard to tolerate Rufioh's blatant disregard for the hearts of others, be it your own, Horus's, or anyone else's. You remember shortly after Rufioh and Horus had broken up, the expression on Meulin's face whenever your team would organize a little get-together and she'd see Horus's despondent look whenever he caught a glimpse of Rufioh. Her expression would only get darker whenever the winged troll would start chatting up one of your other friends. "Righteous rage" is what Kurloz had called it when he had caught you observing her. Trust the girl's matesprit to find the perfect way to sum it up.

"You should get a new one." Her words startle you. You had been so immersed in your recollection of that look on her face that her voice, suddenly so much softer now that it had lost that steely edge, was unexpected and almost strange to your ears. You tilt your head to the side and give her a questioning look. "A new cosplay." She clarifies. "Something that's just for you." You nod slowly, not so much because you agree with the idea, but because it is something worth giving some thought to...


	2. Jade

There's a certain tranquility in this room.

You never fail to notice it whenever you visit Porrim. It's likely something to do with how steady and rhythmically the clicking from her knitting needles reaches you, the use she puts them to admittedly very different from you own as they have never been a part of her strife specibus as far as you know. In any case, the constant clicking creates a soothing effect not unsimilar to that of white noise, and is only sparsely interrupted every now and then by a quiet hum whenever she stops to consider some seemingly trivial thought.

Admittedly, when you had first started your frequent visits to Porrim's hive (and more specifically, her work room) the grave-like silence she seemed capable of working in for hours on end had driven you near mad whenever you were subjected to it. In those days, when the planet you and all your fellow sgrub/sburb players were inhabiting was newly created and your place in it yet undefined, it had been a strange urge that had led you to the hive of one Porrim Maryam. A hive that was shared with her dancestor although you rarely caught a glimpse of her. You weren't friends back then, if anything you would have defined the relationship you two shared along the lines of "grudging acquaintanceship". So it had come as somewhat of a surprise that you had found yourself standing at Porrim's doorstep on what you could only describe as a whim. The fact that she had so readily beckoned you inside and led you to the room where she was working on one of her many knitting projects had been just as unexpected, but you followed her unquestioningly.

In those times, it never took long for your patience to reach it's end. You wouldn't even reach the half-hour mark before you started chattering Porrim's way, just loud enough so that there was no way she could ignore you with your East Beforan accent just barely masking the meaning behind your crude and biting remarks. Porrim was no idiot, though. You knew well enough that even though her grasp of East Beforan was tenuous at best (although now she was capable of understanding all but your fastest and thickest sentences) she could grasp the general gist of what you were saying. She would allowed you a few minutes to ramble, most of it disjointed solicitations that would have certainly made weaker trolls blush enough to pass out. She seemed unaffected by most of it, you would even go so far as to say that you saw the corner of her lips, the one with her lip piercing, quirk up just the slightest bit. Her patience only ever managed to hold out for so long, though, and eventually her eyes would narrow and a low, warning hiss would escape her, forcing her lips to part just enough to reveal gleaming white fangs.

She always managed to force you into a grudging submission, but not once in all that time did she ever ask you to leave.

Now you watch quietly as she works. Her fingers are long and deft as they wind the yarn and handle the needles. It's always fascinating to watch and you can't even blame any catnip or other soporific substances, after all, Porrim doesn't allow any in her workroom. It's one of the near sacred rules that she has always silently enforced and that for some strange reason, you've never even tried to break. She is nothing if not accommodating though, and never fails to offer you a cup of green tea, just the way you like it. You never fail to accept and this time is no different. You take another sip of the now luke-warm beverage as you continue watching her work while at the same time, you try and think of a suitable means of broaching the subject you've been meaning to bring up. Right now she's finishing up a sweater and from the looks of it, olive and purple yarn intertwining to form a pattern of tiny cats and skeletons. You feel it's safe to assume that Meulin commissioned another holiday sweater with which to torment her matesprit. You can't help but smirk at that. Seeing Kurloz miserably wear the ridiculous things never fails to brighten your day.

You know that sewing is not Porrim's strong point, her dancestor is far better suited for it whereas her specialty is undeniably knitting, but you still want her to undertake the creation of your new cosplay. You feel that if it is something that will inevitably hold so much meaning, that you should at least get your friend to help you with it, even if it does mean sacrificing a little quality in exchange.

Your cup sits cold and empty in your cupped hands by the time Porrim finds a suitable place to stop her work for the time being, and she carefully sets it to the side before taking a moment to meticulously stretch any and all stiff muscles in her body. Once that is taken care of she turns to you and smiles gently.

"Something's on your mind." She murmurs, voice low and quiet as she looks you in the eye. You glare at her for a moment because all the plans that had been formulating in the back of your mind were now pointless thanks to her uncanny ability to register your unease. You grumble quietly under your breath, it's half-hearted, something about keeping her nose out of other people's business, and you know she can't have understood a word you said that time, but she still does that little quirk of her lip.

When no answer is forthcoming she quirks an eyebrow instead and stands, moving to sit beside you on the couch you had been occupying since you got there. Her elbow comes to rest on the armrest and she props her chin up on her hand, all the while eyeing you carefully. Your grumbling inevitably dies down and a deep sigh escapes you before you finally speak up

"You make me new cosplay?" You mumble quietly in the broken English you use when you want your meaning to be clear. You could speak much more fluently if you so chose, but you like to make people struggle a little for the privilege of understanding you, even when you do want to be understood.

Porrim blinks at you and her brow furrows slightly, causing the golden piercings in her left eyebrow to glint in the light of her room. You find it amusing that for some reason she seems to find it more difficult to understand you now than when you speak to her in East Beforan. She closes her eyes and tilts her head, and after a long moment nods and looks at you again with jade irises.

"A costume all your own?" She asks, and you know now that she understands exactly what it is you're asking her to do for you. It's not surprising, really. You recall she took a special interest in your cosplay when Meenah had summoned you all to her fight with Aranea's dancestor. She had examined the fabric of both your and Rufioh's cosplays with rapt interest and questioned you about them. Your patience had run out shortly after that and you had left to do your own thing, not that you recall what exactly your own thing was. Still, it wouldn't surprise you if Porrim had thought to look into the cosplays. A quick search on troll google would have given her all the answers she wanted, all the things you had told Meulin in your drug-addled haze would have been available to her much more coherently and at the touch of button.

Eventually you nod slowly, using words right now would be a waste. She smiles at you then, and her hand settles on your shoulder gently and squeezes. For some reason, your brain registers the hand on your shoulder much more acutely than it reasonably should. The weight of her hand, the mid-blood warmth of the jadebloods so cool compared to the burning heat of your burgundy. The touch feels almost... it's almost pale and you're not sure why, but that thought is strangely appealing. You'd never given it much thought, moirallegiance. Admittedly, had someone been available to pacify you during your session things would have undoubtedly gone much more smoothly. You know that's a fact that no one would ever dispute. But now? Was there really any need for a papping hand or a soothing voice to shoosh you?

Not really, but why should that stop you?

She seems hesitant for a moment, and you can feel some of the weight of her hand leave your shoulder as if she was thinking of pulling her hand back, but she catches herself and hesitantly squeezes once more. Her hand stays were it is. It's another amusing thought: Porrim Maryam, known among your friends as the village two wheel device when it came to the concupiscent quadrants, acting nervous about one meager pale gesture. You decide not to comment on it though, and simply take a moment to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of a cool, soothing hand on your shoulder and grin back at her. However, some things never change and you are the first one to break the silence.

"Make sure it's easy to take off," You laugh, the East Beforan flowing quickly from your lips. You don't care, you know she'll understand. "I might need that the next time I come to visit." You finish, lifting your fingers in a v shape and running your tongue between them.

Porrim simply laughs and gives you an affectionate shove and you both begin planning your new cosplay.


End file.
